Walk Like an Egyptian
by I.C. Weener
Summary: And that's a wrap.


" _When Cameron was in Egypt land, let my Cameron go."_

\- Captain John Harriman, Star Trek: Generations

"S _up?"_

\- Ra, Stargate

* * *

Charlotte wanted to do a better job helping Jonathan, but she was a little tied up at the moment. The vampire hunter was fighting for his life against the mummified ghoul who ruled over the Forgotten City. His witchy assistant had been on the sidelines performing the incantation for the fire spell that would incinerate the mummy's decrepit wrappings to ash.

Charlotte never sensed the empty sarcophagus rising up behind her. By the time her suffocating screams caught Jonathan's attention, she was already halfway inside the coffin and wrapped skintight in the miles of living bandages reaching out of it. Only her terrified eyes were still uncovered.

The last of the wrappings stretched themselves around Charlotte's head and covered her face completely. Without another moment of delay, she was yanked backwards into dark hollow interior of the sarcophagus and the lid slammed over her linen-bound body while she was still struggling. The top of the sarcophagus was carved in the likeness of a traditional noble woman with a beastly feline head.

The coffin stood silently in place for several minutes while Jonathan continued fighting the mummy. He jumped over a wall of flying spikes conjured by the monster and got close enough to swing his chain whip. The mummy dissolved into individual bandages and materialized back into one piece several yards behind him.

The stone woman on Charlotte's sarcophagus became an omen as it cracked down the center. The lid crumbled to dust, allowing Charlotte to step out of the funerary coffer at her leisure.

She had traded European frills and thigh stockings for sheer Egyptian silk while she was entombed. The white ceremonial gown that had been magically spun around her was scant and loose fitting. It dangled over her body in transparent rivulets rather than giving her any substantial cover, and everything was barely held together with jewelry chains along her shoulders and hips. Elegant gold trinkets decorated her wrists and weaved between the toes of her bare feet. A silk headdress made of gold and jade ornaments sat over her long brown hair. Her eyes were bright gold with pupils retracted into narrow black slits.

She would never again be known as Charlotte Aulin, apprentice witch on loan to Jonathan Morris. She had embraced destiny and was now resurrected as Charolatra Ahl-Oon, high priestess of His Royal Majesty Akmodan II.

Jonathan suddenly found himself outnumbered by the decaying mummified corpse and the exotic Nile beauty. The mummy threw out his arm and sent an arrow of spiral bandages flying straight toward Jonathan's chest to kill him instantly. Charolatra stubbornly got in the way and snatched the wrappings into her hand before they could bring any harm to the vampire hunter.

Jonathan blinked in shock. Charolatra glanced back at the mummy shaking her head. She murmured something in a seductive Egyptian tongue, and the mummy seemed to agree with whatever she was saying.

Charolatra dropped the stretched cloth and instantly appeared just beside Jonathan with the same unforeseen swiftness as a sand storm. The moment Jonathan turned his head, his eyes instantly became locked in Charolatra's gaze.

The priestess giggled quietly as Jonathan fell under her charms. He was only looking into her eyes for a few seconds, but it made him feel exhausted, as if he was spending an eternity wandering aimlessly through two bright circular deserts. His head felt nauseous for a while, then he collapsed into darkness as his mind lost its grip on consciousness.

* * *

Jonathan woke up to the feeling of cold sandstone pressing against his naked back. He was lying on top of a ritual altar. Torches lit the pyramid walls rising around him. A statue of Anubis loomed over his head like a silent watcher. He was pinned down by a small weight on his chest. The weight had a heartbeat.

Charolatra was straddling over him on her knees. Her tranparent silk garlands brushed his stomach as her smooth thighs rested against his solid hips. Coming to his senses, Jonathan realized his body was completely bare aside from a simple modesty rag draped across his waist.

Charolatra was almost finished tracing over his body with sultry oil-soaked fingertips. After every few passes, her palms would dry and she would submerge them again in a basin set up beside her on the altar top. Her attention to detail made Jonathan's skin glisten from head to toe under the orange flickering light of the torches.

Jonathan could feel his muscles tingle with weakness and drift to sleep. The priestess's graceful touches were robbing him of his strength and leaving him paralyzed. The innate healing magic in her hands and the oils she was applying to him worked together to create an arcane form of anesthesia.

He tiredly rolled his head to one side and saw a row of curved open canopic jars neatly arranged on the edge of the altar. He felt repulse creeping down into his stomach as he started getting a hazy notion of what was really happening. He looked back up at Charolatra—an eerie but calming sight for the troubled mind—but it was too late. His imagination pictured her as a giant pear-shaped jar with silk ribbons floating over her wiggling hips.

Once his body had been prepared, the priestess reached beside her bent knee and lifted an ornate dagger from the altar surface. Jonathan gasped the instant he saw its gleaming point.

"Charlotte, don't-…"

Charolatra offered a small loving smile in response.

"I've taken this woman's entire body as my incarnation. It's only right that I use you for spare parts to restore Pharaoh."

"Spare parts?" Jonathan asked with unease. Charolatra nodded slowly as she confirmed his worst suspicions.

"Your heart. Your lungs. Your kidneys. Your bowels," she pointed the tip of the dagger under his throat and tenderly traced it down his pectoral valley while she spoke. "Everything aside from your brain shall be his."

With her left hand, she rested the tip of the dagger a half-inch above Jonathan's navel and applied just enough force to make his hairs stand up and his skin bend. With her right hand, she brushed his head and tapped playfully against his temple. Her tiny mannerisms silently taunted him at the same time they strangely guided him to relax. He became entranced by her gaze again, finding himself unable to look away from her irises as they expanded and changed into beautiful crystalline forms like a pair of kaleidoscopes. Her pupils became large black opals sitting in golden saucers, and then began to split apart.

Charolatra firmly pressed her left wrist inward. The edge of the ceremonial dagger slipped through Jonathan's vulnerable abdominal tissue with only a small flinch of resistance. All he could feel was a numb hint of pain and the distant cold caress of mortality as he was carved open on the altar.

* * *

The mummy was sitting on his ancient throne with Charolatra purring in his lap. She leaned into his chest wrappings with her slender creamy legs crossed over the obsidian armrest. He tenderly stroked her on her shoulder without making a murmur. The altar below the throne was covered with a thin blood-splattered sheet pulled over the outline of a male cadaver.

The priestess tucked her head under the mummy's and let her long myrrh scented hair brush against the moldy linen covering his chin. She looked up in loyal adoration as her hand touched the wrappings around his cheek.

"The rejuvenation spell should be almost complete, Pharaoh. I think you'll look much more beautiful once you get all those bandages off," she whispered coyly.

Her fingers worked anxiously but delicately to unravel the layers of cloth masking the ancient king's face. She tugged against the knots and unwound the corners clinging to his ears like a kitten kneading yarn. The old cloth started to freely roll off with a little bit of persistence. Then it all suddenly fell away to reveal his face.

He looked just like Jonathan. His hair was unkempt from centuries of mummification and his eyes gleamed like solid black marbles. His expression was stern and tyrannical, but he had all of the same the strong and heroic features as fallen vampire hunter.

Charolatra closed her eyes as she lifted her head. Akmodan held her tighter in his arms to pull her delicate body closer. They tasted each other's breath as their lips joined in a timeless passionate kiss.

* * *

 _Author's note: You've heard of Jonathan Frakes, but did you ever hear about the one where Jonathan gets Freaked?_


End file.
